


Book

by Nopholom



Category: Walking Dead
Genre: (Squint for Daryl/Glenn), Dyslexia, Fluff, Gen, Reading Aloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could read, but the words muddled themselves up sometimes and it was easier just to get someone else to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Book

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2.
> 
> Classed as Gen because the Maggie/Glenn is vague and the Daryl/Glenn is only there if you want to see it.

Daryl was joking about the pictures, sort of, flipping through the book with a look of disinterest, he didn’t want to be rude, the girl was only apologising, wasn’t her fault he’d looked like the dead, she was only protecting her shit, just like he did.

“Hey,” he called out as Andrea tried to leave, the woman turning to look at him, “Shoot me again? You best pray I’m dead,” he warned, a hint of a smile on his lips, falling away when she turned and left. He tossed the book aside and rolled onto his side, back to the world, against his nature, but he didn’t want that kind of hassle, and he figured if he looked asleep, people would leave him the hell alone.

He stayed there all day, the book on the floor niggling at him, pissing him off the more he thought about it, so he eventually plucked it off of the groundsheet, holding it open above his face and squinting at the lines upon lines of small, bold printed words, lips moving as he skimmed the line, forming the words there but it was darkening outside and trying to figure out what sounded where was fucking hard enough as is. He huffed miserably and rolled off of the cot, book clasped between his fingers as he stepped out into the darkening camp, other hand on his stitches, moving too fast for his body to favour. He gave himself a minute before looking around for light, seeing some from Rick’s tent but opting against it, spying Glenn’s tent lit up softly and heading over, crouching by the flap.

“Hey Shortroun’,” he called softly, “you fuckin’?” he asked, the flap pushing open to reveal Glenn frowning out at him, pushed onto his hand and knees to see who was out there,

“Uh… no Daryl… who would I be—“ he was cut off by Daryl’s uninterested stare, the Korean rolling his eyes before moving to sit back on his bed, “What do you want?” he asked, sounding agitated, a little rattled by something or other, but Daryl took his question as an invite and stepped into the tent, parking his ass and tossing the book to Glenn. “Ah, I’ve already read this one,” he hummed, “Shit I didn’t leave it on your stuff did I? I haven’t been near anything I swear!” he defended lamely, Daryl was just staring at him, waiting for him to finish before growing awkward and biting at his lip, moving onto his thumb after a few seconds. “Daryl?” Glenn asked, frowning at the redneck sat on his floor, Daryl moved then, pushing himself up for long enough to sit by the edge of the cot, back to Glenn and his shoulder pressed to the Korean’s leg.

He muttered something and Glenn prompted him to repeat himself, but he was having a hard time getting it out. Daryl was trying to form the words, trying to admit to something that made him feel weak, kind of dumb; he was smart, he _knew_ he was smart, people were shocked when he said shit that was, to him, obvious, so he figured they weren’t expecting him to say something smart, he didn’t like feeling stupid, and this, this definitely made him feel stupid.

“Can you uh… read it?” he cringed as he asked, turning his head slightly to look at Glenn before changing his mind and looking forward again, focussing on the small solar powered lantern on the floor across from them.

“…Read it?” Glenn asked, “I have,” he added, Daryl inhaling deeply before letting out a sigh,

“To me…” he grumbled, hearing the ‘oh’, then the shocked little noise, half expecting Glenn to speak his mind, kid never thought before he opened his trap.

“Alright,” that surprised him, expecting Glenn to ask if he couldn’t read; he _could_ read, but the words muddled themselves up sometimes and it was easier just to get someone else to do it, like the lady, Mary-Anne, who ran the nearest diner to his home, or that weird old guy who lived in the parking lot of Merle’s favourite bar and always called Daryl sweetheart, Merle had pitched a fit when he’d caught Daryl sitting with him, beat the guy to a pulp and got shuttled off to jail again, kind of obvious why when he thought about it.

There was movement behind him, Glenn shifting to lie down, rearranging his bedding so the head of the sleeping bag was bundled up at the end Daryl was sat in front of, lying on his side with the book open, the back of Daryl’s head visible a few inches below the bottom of the book. He started to read aloud and Daryl moved, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on them as he listened carefully, hanging off of every word that came from the Asian’s mouth, smiling to himself when even _Glenn_ managed to stumble over a few words, taking a small bit of comfort in the way the human mind always seemed to struggle to read aloud without practice. Despite having to get the kid to read to him, Daryl managed to surprise him by supplying the occasional definition whenever Glenn asked ‘what the hell does _that_ mean?’ gritting out a quiet ‘I ain’t stupid’ when Glenn asked if that was seriously what it meant.

Daryl headed to Glenn’s tent most nights—even after the barn, after Randall showed up and messed everything up, after Dale—wanting to read more of the book, realising pretty quick that Glenn’s attentions lay elsewhere. It didn’t matter anyway, Randall was killed, Shane was killed, the Walkers invaded the farm and the group barely made it out, losing a few more people on the way.

They had gotten away from the farm, pretty far before the gas ran low and the dark of the following day set in, Rick’s behaviour changed, the group was tense, and Daryl had been overlooked for guard duty, taking his crossbow and digging through the bag he’d snagged, pulling the battered paperback out and heading to find Glenn. He was sitting against a wall, Maggie tucked under his arm; he looked up when Daryl approached,

“Chinaman,” Daryl barked,

“Hey Daryl…” he greeted with a sigh, Daryl huffing through his nose and tossing the book over before dropping down on Glenn’s other side, knee shifting to knock the Asian’s leg lightly. Maggie looked at them in confusion,

“What’s this?” she asked, turning the book in Glenn’s hand,

“Book we’re reading,” Glenn answered honestly, “You seriously want to do this now?” Glenn asked Daryl, who didn’t say a word, just stared straight ahead and hugged his crossbow to his chest, he needed the distraction, and Glenn seemed to peg onto that, opening the book up to the dog-eared page and beginning to read.

“What’s happened so far?” Maggie interrupted, “I mean, if I’m gonna have to sit and listen, I’d like to know what’s happened,” she added at Daryl’s irate expression, Glenn opened his mouth to tell the story so far, but Daryl beat him to it, prattling it off to every little detail, the ins and outs of the murder, the clues the protagonist had found, the ones he hadn’t that Daryl figured were important somehow, even the unimportant seeming back-and-forths between the detective and his boss. He stopped at the point just above Glenn’s finger, gaze turned to the far wall once more, “wow…” Maggie let out softly, “sounds good,” she added, Daryl missing the look she gave Glenn, Glenn shrugged, Daryl felt it, but the Asian started reading and things seemed kind of normal again…


End file.
